Kingship
by Mister March
Summary: Harry Potter, a prince of Pivet in Eastern London, plans revenge for the death of his parents. Whilst on his journey through sorcery and magic, he meets a king and a commoner who aid him in battle.


**Author:** Mister March  
 **Story Name:** Kingship  
 **Rating:** T  
 **Warnings:** none?

 **Description:** Harry Potter, a prince of Pivet in Eastern London, plans revenge for the death of his parents. Whilst on his journey through sorcery and magic, he meets a king and a commoner who aid him in battle.

 **A/N:** This is my first Harry Potter fanfic but i've been thinking about this lately and I just had to write something ! I must say, tho, Ron Weasley is my favorite Harry Potter character and he always will be. Who's yours?

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own any character or the Harry Potter Franchise.

* * *

Harry James Potter, the son of Lily Evans and James Potter, the persona of hope and love in a land where such qualities were hard to find, had faithfully fulfilled his prophecy. And it was only when he saw the eyes of a man whose heart was three times bigger than his frame, which did say much, he learned of life and all he was that was stripped away from him.

* * *

It was a cold monday morning. Harry stood mercilessly out in the poppy field his mother had once grown too attached to. His shoulders laxed and hands swaying at his sides, he breathed in a slow deep inhale. The fragrant blossoms almost overwhelmed him, but the wind pushed it all away to allow him to see all he cherished. This supple moment where he stood alone and no one was there to bother him, and no one wished to do so, had him curating deep set fantasies. Just the sound of birds singing their ageless tunes and the feeling of comfort enveloping him in a tender hug had him, for once, at ease.

How long he had been out in the open, he could not say. But he seemed to breathe a bit better with the air fresher outside than in a dungy castle. It was in his days of being a teenager that Harry began to appreciate all that seemed to call to him when he was just a boy. Except, when he would see such things it would only cause a showering of sadness to wash over him. Just to see the color red, a deep rich color that matched the color of his mother's hair in the photographs under his bed… He almost always had to look away.

And now, with the leaves falling off dry branches, and wildlife hiding from the world, he learned to appreciate the simplistic values of life that granted him even a twinge of satisfaction. But it was all stripped away when the taut voice of Duke Vernon Dursley followed the shrilled screams from his beloved wife, Petunia. _**"WHERE'S THE BOY?"**_ they hollered, echoing in the distance, causing blue jays to shed from the tippy-tops of willow trees. "THAT BLASTED, IDIOT OF A BOY!" The heavy stomps from his uncle could even be heard from thirty meters away. Harry didn't have to see to know that the picture frames on the walls of the castle were shaking with every step Vernon took.

"Mummy!" Harry could have chopped off the tip off his tongue form how hard he was biting it. _Damn_. The poor boy couldn't even enjoy a few minutes in a poppy field without the Dursley's ruining it all. Dudley, dressed in fine silk, big blue eyes wide with a mischievous finger pointed at Harry from where he sat in the poppy field, yelled once more "He be sitting in the gardens again!"

"Oh god." Harry muttered under his breath. Sighing as he pushed himself off the ground, wiping the morning dew onto his pants before looking up to find his aunt walking with her arms crossed over her flat chest towards him. Thin lips pursed, pressed into a line with crows feet coming to join in as she squinted deep set eyes. He didn't bother to move, only turn around and gaze at the cold faces of a heartless family he was tied down to.

"Now what in hell's name do you think you're doing?" Vernon spat, taking three more hefty stomps towards him. "We been looking all bloody morning for you."

"Looking forward to seeing me?" Harry asked.

"Oh, e- _ **NOUGH**_ with you!" Petunia caught onto his sarcasm. She stood tall next to her husband; Dudley only smiled from beside her.

"Yeah - Enough with that." Vernon nodded. "Do you know what the neighbors would say if they saw you? They don't even know you exist!"

"I think they'd be happy to see me, Uncle Vernon." Harry raised his chin "I think they stopped looking in the yard after your last dinner party." Although, Harry hated it just as much. Cleaning after the stye was gruesome enough, but hearing about it for days, the two randomly shoving blame on him as to why their guests had such an awful time was just torture. The sounds of their voices, how could one stand it?

"WHY, YOU BLOODY -" Vernon choked on his words, freezing before hushing himself. He quickly grabbed Harry by the shoulder, pulling him closer until their faces were too close for comfort. "If you leave that damn castle one more time i'll shove you under the stairs just like before. You ungrateful little brat, we give you a room and you still leave." If Harry could say something, anything, he wouldn't know what to voice out. The rampaging mumbles that left his uncle's lips had him gaping at everyone. Big green eyes widening as they shoved him along, almost dragging him to the corridors of the castle. Petunia picked up the skirt, smacking Dudley's hand when he went to grab at the frayed strings of her embroidery.

His aunt huffed, reaching out to pinch his ear with vermillious claws. "And sitting in my garden, you have some nerve. Just because your gruesome mother sat in that dingy poppy field don't mean you can ruin the flowers _too._ " Harry winced, squeezing his eyes shut for a second.

Harry threw his head over his shoulder, peering back at the blissful light of the outdoors before it got smaller and smaller. The sound of the wooden door slamming into its frame caused him to feel something bubble inside his chest.

* * *

He was a prince: royalty among his peers. His mother was the heir to the crown, soon accepting it after marrying a commoner who stole her heart. James Potter was crowned king and both sat in their thrones with only a smile set for each other. Harry was born in the summer, his eyes a luscious green that mirrored those of his mother's. He inherited the dark brown tresses of his father which his mother truly adored.

But one day, they died… and he never knew why.


End file.
